


At Your Service

by cametobuyplums



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hand Jobs, Lapdance, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 15:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18943570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cametobuyplums/pseuds/cametobuyplums
Summary: In which Carter recruits the services of a topless maid.





	At Your Service

**Author's Note:**

> It is a truth universally acknowledged that I would drop anything for Carter Baizen and my friend abused this knowledge by sending me a prompt.

You feel lightheaded. Floating. Your head in the clouds and it’s as if you’re flying. A penthouse suite on the Upper East Side. A ring of the bell and it’s almost immediately the door is opened. A woman older than you, dressed in a neatly pressed black dress with a white collar. Her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Hello,” you smile sweetly. “I’m from the maid service. I’m here for Mr. Baizen.”

“I am Mr. Baizen’s maid,” she frowns, glancing at your trench coat with disdain. “You must have the wrong door.”

“I don’t think you understand,” you simper, deftly unfastening the top button of your coat. “I’m here  _for_  Mr. Baizen.”

Discretion, you’re a professional after all. She is, too, undoubtedly well versed after years of service on the Upper East Side but as luck would have it, a man rounds the corner. Barefoot, grey pants slung low on his hips and powder blue shirt undone just enough to reveal the dark hair peppering his chest. The skip of your heart as you realise how  _handsome_  your client is.

A young man, perhaps the  _prettiest_  you’ve ever laid eyes on. A sharply chiselled jawline with the cutest cleft in his chin. Perfectly cut cheekbones and plump pink lips. Soulful blue eyes that gaze so intensely at your trench coat, you feel your  _whole_  body blush all over. There’s a smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth and for a moment, you almost forget yourself.

“Uh, thank you, Martha,” he says to the maid. “That’ll be all for today.”

To her credit, Martha says little. Spares you no second glance and it’s only when the front door shuts do you finally address him.

“Mr. Baizen,” You smile coyly with a bat of your lashes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

A beautiful drawl to his voice. Low and smooth. Sensual enough to make you feel warm all over but this is your game. You hold all the cards. And it’s one fluid motion, the manner in which you unbutton your trench coat. A teasing glimpse of what lies beneath as you tilt your head. A bite of your lip and you make sure he notices the way you let your gaze roam over him.

“I’m sure a man such as yourself understands the importance of business before pleasure.”

Carter smirks at that. He pulls a silver money clip from his pocket, peeling off a note that you pocket with another smile. His jaw clenches into a hard line as you slip off your coat. And he’s treated to what lies beneath. A pair of tiny panties, black silk and French lace. A garter belt, clipped to sheer black stockings. Black, laced up high heels. And of course, a small white apron tied neatly with a bow just above the curve of your ass. A matching white collar around your neck.

You’re beautiful. You know that, of course. But, it helps that your client seems to think so, too. The fractional darkening of his pretty blue eyes. His bottom lip tugged between his teeth, slowly staining red. The beginning of a pink flush across his collarbone. You smirk and step close enough to let your perfume drift over him.

“Where do you want me, sir?”

There’s a thrill that comes with your job. A sense of control. Power. It’s a carefully choreographed dance, one that strokes Carter Baizen’s ego, all the while allowing you to pull the strings. You find yourself in his study, bent over the enormous glass desk. It’s cold against your warm skin, nipples pebbling into small peaks and his teeth sink into his lip once more. You wipe a little more fervently, breasts bouncing enough to elicit the quietest of groans.

“Have you been doing this long?” asks Carter in a husky voice. “You seem very… skilled.”

“Oh,” you giggle, hiding behind your hand. “Actually, you’re my first, Mr. Baizen. But I’m not supposed to say that.”

A lie that falls too easily from your lips. A lie he laps up with a smug swell of his chest. You spin a story, and he dips his head, peering up at you through the dark lashes that frame his eyes. Like that of a wolf about to pounce on his prey. You have Carter exactly where you want him. He eases out a sharp breath as your curve your fingers over his shoulders, guide him down on to the leather couch.

Greedy lust clouds his eyes. He drinks you in, standing between his parted legs as if you’ve walked straight out of one his fantasies. A song you choose. Body Party by Ciara. It fits the mood perfectly.

“The first dance is free, sir,” you whisper, lowering yourself on to his lap. “Every one after that will cost you.”

“Then you’d better convince me it’s worth it.” He smirks, raising his hands.

“No touching.” You scold playfully, batting him away.

Carter pouts. Obliges for the timebeing. Slow and sensual. Every circle of your hips, every drag of your core. Your bare breasts brush over his chest. A noticeable erection that strains his pants. You’re smart enough to add a shyness to your smile. He thinks he’s your first, after all.

“Are you going to let me touch you now?” He husks, a slight hint of desperation drips from his words.

“Are you convinced for another dance?” You cheek back and he chuckles.

Carter’s hand dips back into his pocket. Another note that you tuck into the front of your apron. His fingers reach for you but you tut at him, guiding them to your thighs. He groans with displeasure.

“Oh, come on, beautiful,” he pouts. “What’s it gonna take?”

Carter has the answer to that question. You glance pointedly at his pocket and he sighs, as if it’s of great consequence. Yet another note.

“You can touch me, sir. But,  _only_  my ass and thighs.”

“What about these pretty tits, beautiful? Can’t you tell, I’m dying to get my hands on them?”

Carter  _does_  look desperate. A predatory hunger in his eyes. You giggle, fingers laced around his neck as you rock your hips. A bite of your own lip, you duck your head shyly and he grins at that.

“Sir, I really shouldn’t,” you whisper. “I could get in so much trouble.”

“No-one has to know,” he urges, squeezing your ass. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“Well… maybe I could make an exception,” you muse, core just ghosting the outline of his hard cock. “If you  _really_  want me to.”

This time Carter tucks the cash into your apron himself. And you hide your glee that it’s not just one note, but  _two_. You swear him to secrecy. And he eagerly agrees. The moment you nod he lets out an animalistic growl, hands cupping your breasts and you mewl just for him. There’s a roughness to his fingers, a kind of masterful teasing and an expert touch. A rare breed of man who knows exactly how to handle a woman. It makes your job all that more enjoyable.

Every passing dance darkens the flush that blankets his chest. You dare to run your fingers through the thatch of hair under his collarbone. His head tilts back, lashes fluttering wildly. You giggle coquettishly, back pressed to his chest as you lower yourself between his legs. A hand on either of his thighs to steady yourself and he growls so darkly you wonder if he could come just like this. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made a man fall apart from a dance alone.

“Sweetheart,” he groans sinfully. “Baby,  _please_.”

“Mr. Baizen? Sir?”

“Would it be unprofessional of me to ask you to touch me?”

“Sir,” you giggle cheekily, swivelling around in his lap. “You know I can’t.”

“Just this once,” he pleads. “For  _me_. You’re driving me  _crazy_  here. C’mon, I’ll throw in an extra hundred.”

You quirk a brown, he has your attention. A deliberate rock of your hips, you grind down on his cock and he gasps, his hips chasing yours.

“Please, I want those pretty hands around my cock.”

“Well,” you whisper secretively. “I always did wonder what it would be like… making money from that…”

“I’ll make it two hundred.”

There’s a sheer desperation in his voice. The very one you’ve been waiting for. Oh, poor, innocent Carter. How he thinks you relent just for him. He bears a giddy smile as he all but shoves his money in your apron pocket. Aching for the shy, topless maid to jerk him off. He thinks he’s corrupted you. And you let him believe it. His breath hitches as you unbutton his shirt, trail a finger down his bare chest and the muscles of his abdomen clench under your touch. He bucks his hips as you reach for his zipper.

“ _Sir_.”

A hand you wrap delicately around his cock and God, does he moan so  _prettily_. He’s thick, precome leaking from the red tip. You hum, and it’s not entirely for him. He feels so  _hard_  in your hand. Velvety. Hot. You indulge yourself. Marvel at every vein and ridge, imagining how he must feel filling you up. Oh, you’re definitely glad you gave in to him. And he’s so  _responsive_. Groaning as he squeezes your ass. Whimpering in between shaky pants as you stroke him softly.

“Faster,” he begs. “ _Fuck_ , go faster, beautiful.”

“Anything for sir.”

Carter sinks back into the couch. Fingers digging into your hips punishingly as his mouth slackens with pleasure. You glide your thumb over the tip, slicking his length and he cries out. And you’ve barely had time to get started when he gasps, coming in hot, pearly ropes that paint his chest and stomach. He’s  _gorgeous_. A ruin of shaky breaths and sweat slicked skin. You giggle and he opens his eyes blearily. A sated smile.

“ _Fuck_ , sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You sure are something special, aren’t you?”

“You really think so?” You simper bashfully.

Carter cocks a brow. Glancing down at the mess he’s made on himself and you giggle. Reach for a tissue and help him clean up. You are a maid after all. He’s reluctant to let you go. Pouting adorably as you button up your trench coat.

“I hope that was to your standards, Mr. Baizen.”

“I think you exceeded all expectations,” he grins, head cocked to one side. “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

“I have other clients, sir.” You answer apologetically.

“You know, they say you never forget your first.” He winks cheekily, a charming grin that makes you smile widely.

“No,” you agree. “I don’t suppose I will forget you, Mr. Baizen.”

“Maybe I’ll call,” he teases. “Ask for you by name.”

“I think I’d like that,” you say quietly. “Goodbye, Mr. Baizen.”

A car awaits you. A dirty great grin erupts on your face as you slide in. A pretty young woman already in the backseat. Her outfit identical to yours. She quirks a brow at your evident glee.

“How did it go?”

“Men are so fickle,” you sigh, counting your cash lazily. “A little ego massaging, a pair of breasts and they forget all about their brain and think with their dick.”

“Lucky for us.”

You smile, leaning in close to her. A kiss, passionate and searing. One that sets you slight.

“Yeah, lucky for us.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello on Tumblr](http://cametobuyplums.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [If you enjoy my writing please consider buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/cametobuyplums)


End file.
